


Durin's Tale

by that_one_kid



Series: Lack of Adult Supervision (Camp Counselor AU) [3]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Lord of the Rings (Movies), The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Summer Camp, Gen, Well - Freeform, considering the hobbit movies canon so sue me, dwarves have long memories, gimli is more thoughtful than he gets credit for, one side of it, the origin of elf-dwarf discord in this au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-23
Updated: 2019-08-23
Packaged: 2020-09-24 10:03:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20356660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/that_one_kid/pseuds/that_one_kid
Summary: Gimli and Boromir get lunch, and the origin of an old family feud is revealed. Boromir drinks tea and Gimli spills it ;)





	Durin's Tale

**Author's Note:**

> Bit of backstory here as some things come to light...  
  
See end note for trigger warnings.

“I wish I’d chosen a different camp to work at,” Gimli said to Boromir at dinner one day. They’d headed into town to get away from the hustle and bustle of camp on their night off. Boromir turned to him with no little amount of surprise. 

“You do? I mean, I understand not wanting to work at a camp at all,” He pointed to the long bruise across his arm where an 11-year-old had caught him with a fencing foil. “But this camp seems as good as any other. Better than some I have worked at, for sure.” 

“I should have known better than to take a job so close to the Silmaril Forest,” Gimli continued, bitterly. “Of course _ they’re _ here.” Boromir leaned back in his chair and considered him with interest. 

“This sounds like gossip,” he said, after a minute. “Go on.” Gimli looked around them, even though they were miles away from the camp itself. 

“You know Legolas, the archery instructor?” Gimli asked, though he knew the answer. With only four counselors, the camp wasn’t big enough for strangers. 

“Yes…” Boromir said, frowning. “Has he done something wrong?” 

“Has he- Ha! Has he done something wrong, indeed.” Gimli scoffed, although there was no humor in his voice. “His family is made of greedy thieves, and selfish ones at that. My family calls them ‘elves’, after the high-and-mighty tricksters they take their last name from.”

“Sid-hee?” Boromir asked, looking more confused by the minute.

“An old Irish name,” Gimli corrected. “S-I-D-H-E, but pronounced ‘shee’. It was the Irish name for the homes of the Fae that they feared. And we should fear these _ elves. _” He spat the word with venom, and Boromir leaned forward. 

“What happened?” he asked, in the conspiratorial tone of one drawn further into intrigue by their curiosity (and against their better judgement). 

“We were neighbors, once,” Gimli started. “In a neighborhood near this camp. These mountains surrounded us, and the Silmaril National Forest stretched all the way to our backyards. My parents said my brothers and cousins and I played in those woods - with Sidhe children, nonetheless!” 

“They say? You don’t remember?” Boromir asked, sipping his drink. 

“No. Because when I was very young, no more than five perhaps, there was a great forest fire. It burned down our house and many in our neighborhood, and cost many lives.” 

“I’m so sorry,” Boromir said.

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” Gimli said, offhandedly. He continued. “But there was one house that did not burn.”

“Not the Sidhe household?” Boromir asked, now thoroughly invested in the story. 

“Yes. But when we went to them for help, they would not take us in or give us anything. They said that they’d warned us of what would come from building in the woods, too close to our house. A simple treehouse at the edge of the woods, that my brothers and cousins had begged for, and they blamed us for the destruction of everything we had.” 

“How cruel,” Boromir said, his eyes shadowed. Then he shook his head and frowned. “But if you were so young, Legolas could not have been more than six or seven. He isn’t much older than you, is he?” 

“No,” Gimli snapped, and then took a deep breath. “No, but many harsh words were spoken that day. He and his family, all the elves, have hated our family since, and we hate them in turn.” There was a long pause, and Gimli drank deeply from his glass of water.

“I know a little something about a lack of love, and about hatred,” Boromir said at last. His eyes were distant, and glittered with something cruel and unspoken. Gimli noticed, and he gave the older instructor his full attention. “Admittedly, the strife I speak of is within a single family, and is crueler, perhaps, because of it. But I do not think that hatred is the path you should take, my friend. You are too good of a man and too kind of a person to make that mistake. Perhaps you should speak with Legolas, yourself, before this camp is ended.” Gimli was silent as he thought, draining the rest of his drink, but at length he nodded. 

“I might,” he said. “I just might.”

**Author's Note:**

> Trigger warnings for: Wildfire, housefire, mentioned deaths, family feuds, mentions of an abusive family


End file.
